The Long Goodbye

He worked that into me and then pulled his fingers out. He rubbed a bit more, warmed some how, onto my asshole and my body tensed. He hushed me as he slipped first one finger into me. "Relax," he said as he slowly worked his fingers in and out of me. "But if you want me to stop, all you have to do is say it."

I didn't, though. "No, it's just that I've..." he added a second finger, and it felt like he might as well have put his entire hand into me. I sniffed and tried to breathe and relax. "I've never..."

"You're an anal virgin," he completed the statement and I nodded to confirm. "And you're nervous; maybe even a little scared it will hurt even too much for you?" I nodded again. "Well," he said and I felt a bit more wetness dribble onto my backside as his fingers worked in and out of me, massaging the lube into my hole. "Does this feel good to you?" he asked.

"Yes," I mustered, a little embarrassed that I could go from screaming obscenities at one moment to being a frightened little girl the next.

"And you enjoyed my tongue in your backside, right?"

I nodded again. "Yes, daddy."

"Then you know there's pleasure to be had there. Pleasure that exists past the pain -- and there will be pain, darling -- just like with your tattoos. There's no getting around that; not with the kind of time we have together. So, the question becomes," he turned his fingers inside of me as he moved them in and out, "are you willing to brave that moment of pain to reach the pleasure waiting for you on the other side? And do you trust me to get you there?"

"I trust you, daddy," I said and took a deep, calming breath. I focused on letting my limbs go limp, to let the restraints take some slack and release some pressure on me there. It helped. I concentrated on that and my breathing as he squeezed a third finger into me with another generous dollop of lube. I tried to imagine pushing back on him, tried to raise my hips up into his fingers. My deep breath in became a deeper sigh out, and then he pulled his fingers away and shifted to straddle me just below the hips. I heard the squirting of lube from the bottle, the wet sound of it being spread as he stroked his cock, and then felt the bulbous head of him press against my delicate opening.

I tried to arch my back slightly as he pressed harder. My sphincter tensed reflexively, and then relaxed against as I took another deep breath and, once more, imagined pushing onto him. There was pain -- sharp and sudden, bright as the sun -- and then, pop, his head passed the little ring of muscle. He waited while I twitched, my breath coming in short, fast pulls of air. I felt his hands settle on my back, rubbing me, hushing me, praising my bravery. He felt massive, and I whimpered as he leaned into me, his chest covering my back as he brought his lips to my ear. "You're doing so well," he said as his hips inched closer to me, and then suddenly it felt like progress stopped at some other barrier. His hands reached beneath me, took my breasts and held them tight as he drew back and pushed forward to that same spot, again and again. It hurt, as he said it would, and I bit my lip to hold back my desire to cry out, but that sharpness faded to a dull, throbbing ache, and then dissipated almost entirely as he gently rocked into me, stretching me open.

My whimpering changed to more pleasant moans and my breathing evened out as he went. Then he pushed harder and passed the barrier. I gasped at the sensation of fullness suddenly expanded as his slid without any apparent resistance completely into me. His balls pressed against me. It felt incredible, like nothing before. My body twitched in places, toes curling as my sphincter pulsed around the base of his shaft. My mouth hung open in disbelief that I had taken him entirely. "Oh God," I stammered as he lay with most of his weight atop me, lips searching my neck and shoulders as he pressed and gently gyrated his hips against me, stirring my insides with his cock. "F...fuck, mmmpf," It felt too good; just the right amount of hurt and the right amount of pleasure. "Daddy...daddy," I repeated over and over again through teeth clenched around a mouthful of comforter as he worked me over. "Daddy, you feel so fucking big inside my little ass. Ohh, f-f-fuc-k-kk." I felt my mind break completely the first time he drew back, almost completely out of me, and then slid back in, balls deep.

"That's my good girl," he whispered in my ear as he did it again and then stirred about my insides. He seemed to control his own breathing with some effort. Compared to him, I was just a tiny little thing. More than a foot difference in height and, despite his lean appearance, he had to weigh at least twice my 98 lbs, if not more. I could only imagine what it must look like to him from behind me, with his blood-bloated rod fucking in and out of my round little backside. And I was imagining it. I made a note somewhere to shop for a dildo or vibrator to match his size as closely as possible. I wanted to feel this again, even if I had to take matters into my own hands.

"Oh, th...thank you, d-daddy," I said through my shuddering moans. "It, mmm-makes me so glad," He thrust into me a little harder, enough that the rest of my moved and I exhaled almost all of my air. Gasping, I continued "so glad that I could give myself to you tonight. Mmmgod, that...ugh...that you're the one who gets to take my cherry little asshole. Oh, f-f-fuck, daddy, I love it. I love the feeling of your throbbing cock inside of me. I...I always wondered," his movement in and out me crescendoed slowly as I went on, "if you could really be...as good as your...fuck...your book, and," he twisted my nipples and my words dissolved into incoherent babbling. I had to bite the comforter again.

His tongue snaked into my ear, and the heat of his breath as he spoke melted any last reservations I had, any last inhibitions that kept me from yelling my desires from the rooftops. "Go on, baby."

I knew I could be who I wanted to be with him, without concern for judgment. Welcome in what I desired. "You are so much better, daddy," I breathed and smiled as he pumped into me and torqued my piercings until it felt like he might break them loose or tear my flesh. I didn't care. I was getting railed by my fantasy lover. "Fuck me," I begged, my voice a broken rasp, "destroy me, use me, pound my tight little virgin ass, daddy! Make me feel it. Make me bleed. Do anything you want to me; anything, daddy! Just! Don't! Stop! FUCKING! ME!"

His groaning intensified behind me, and so did his pace as I carried on, and the filth that spilled out of my mouth surprised even me later on. "Stuff that cock in my little shit hole, daddy! Pack me tight and hard like the good little slut I am for you! Oh, God, it's only for you! Fuck me! Fuck me like you fucking own me because you fucking do!" His hands left my breasts and I felt him drizzle more lube on my asshole and his cock as it thrust in and out of me.

Then a swatch of cloth passed over my face -- by the smell of my own sex on it, I knew it was the same cloth he'd used earlier with such efficiency on my still swollen clit. At first it caught on my lips and I thought all my shouting had driven him to gag me. I thought what a wonderful little victory that would be. But a half second later he pulled it further down and wrapped the silky length about my throat.

He pulled back and I felt my neck bend at an almost impossible curve. I could barely breathe, just barely, and that not made easier by the fact that, as he pulled my head back from the bed with this cloth about my neck, he started jack-hammering his hips into me. His balls slapped against my dripping cunt as the wet, percussive sound of flesh smacking against flesh filled the room. My haughty voice had gone, and all the sound I could muster now as he pistoned his turgid length in and out of me in near full-length strokes, was a sort of gargled sucking sound of my lungs fighting to get whatever air they could.

"You dirty fucking cunt," he said, his voice suddenly a fierce growl. "You filthy little cum slut." He loosened his pull on the loop around my neck just long enough for me to gulp a breath before he resumed his taught pulling. "You are mine, you hear me?" He slapped my ass so hard I could feel the outline of every finger and the welt it would leave. "You're my little fuck toy; my perfect little cock sleeve." He slacked the noose again and my head fell forward into the mattress, raggedly panting while my body tensed and pulled involuntarily at the restraints. Every fiber of me felt on fire with some strange electric glow. "What are you," he asked as he jerked my head back by the hair.

"I'm yours, daddy," I rasped through gritting, smiling teeth. "I'm your baby girl; your perfect slut! Choke me! Spank me! Fucking break me in two! God, I love your cock in my ass!"

I felt his hand pass between the pillow under my hips and my hot, sweating flesh. His fingers found my clit and began flying furiously from side to side. "Don't you fucking forget it." He let go of my hair, ripped the mask off of my eyes, and resumed pulling on the my throat changed direction as he leaned over me, his eyes fixed on the exposed part of my face. I could see every vein in his neck and shoulders with one exposed eye as he choked me and drove himself harder and harder into me. I felt my face getting redder and hotter, felt my eyes try to roll back into my head, but I couldn't leave his gaze; couldn't help but fight to stay conscious while it felt like he might turn me inside out with his cock. I wouldn't disappoint my daddy.

"Now, come for me, baby."

His hold on the cloth dropped and I suddenly had lungs full of air to scream as I soaked the towel beneath me. I strained, felt the muscles in my asshole convulse through contraction after contraction. "Oh, fuck," he screamed as he caught himself falling forward onto me, his forearms twitching and I felt him press completely into me as the first hot spurts of his seed shot into me. Still he fucked his cock in and out of me, my now loose asshole making incredible sucking sounds as I felt his orgasm bubble out around his thrusting meat. It was too much. It was too good. It was everything I wanted it to be and so much more.

I passed out.

When I came to, I was out of the restraints and he was holding me, slapping my cheek gently to rouse me. I looked up at him, bleary eyed and dazed, and smiled. "Did I do good, daddy," I whimpered weakly as he scooped me up into his lap.

"You did wonderful, little girl," he said and kissed me gently on the lips. He smiled as he sat back and brushed the hair out of my face. "Absolutely beautiful. You were a perfect angel."

I made a pleased little sound in the back of my throat as my eyes lilted shut again. "Thank you, daddy," I said and nestled into him. "Thank you for everything." He cradled me close and I felt complete as he kissed my forehead. And everything was perfect.

He carried me to the bathroom again and settled me on the toilet while he drew a fresh bath and added some scented Epsom salts from what he called his kit while my body made all sorts of rude noises that made me giggle like a complete dork. My brain still hadn't recovered from the euphoria of the night. Everything felt untethered and in danger of flying off the earth into space.

He sat me in the tub and cleaned me up again, brought me cool water to sip while he looked over my wrists an ankles. After the tub, he toweled me off and helped me to a chair by the little table on the far side of the room where the light was better to examine my ankles, wrists, and throat, all of which he massaged with a bit of salve. He fed me, some more of that sweet cream and wine gelato and then a spare breakfast pastry from the previous morning's continental breakfast -- cherries and cream cheese, which was my favorite. We talked about what we did, how it made us feel, and so on, with the whole exchange passing in a fog for me. Every nerve was still alive at that moment, flickering with electric pulses that jarred my memory. He cleaned while we talked, tossing towels into the bathroom and putting away his own things as well. He washed himself off in the sink with a washcloth, then turned down the sheets and walked me carefully to the bed.

The sheets where we lay were a welcome, cool reprieve from how hot my skin still felt in places. But by far my favorite was snuggling up with him, my head on his chest, his arm around my shoulder, our legs intertwined beneath the comforter. I chuckled suddenly and he asked me why. "You're the first man I've had sex with that I'll actually wake up next to the morning after," I told him.

He stroked my hair and sighed. "You're something special, little girl," he said. "Whoever you are behind 'Mariana', I hope you know that."

A sad thought occurred to me, then, that made me pull tighter against him. "I'll never see you again after the morning, will I?"

"Who knows what the future will bring," he said as he tilted my chin up to his face. "I will tell you this -- if our paths ever cross again, little girl; if we find ourselves at the same concert here in the city again, or anywhere else for that matter, I will snap you up in a heartbeat."

It made me smile. I craned my neck up to kiss him on the lips and lingered there. "You're the best daddy ever," I said, and I meant it.

...

He showered early and brought me a huge plate of food from the continental breakfast the hotel served in an alcove adjoined to the lobby. We ate breakfast in bed and I talked about my friends. I'd called Michelle already to let her know for sure that I hadn't been snapped by by a serial killer or trafficked off to Mexico, and he'd walked in on the latter part of the conversation where she tried to make me promise to tell everyone all about my rendezvous. I told her I would think about it. When he asked, I told him the whole truth, and how I probably wouldn't speak a word about it to anyone outside of my journal as soon as we got home.

"Don't do that," he said, a response that left me honestly surprised. "Don't run from who you know you are, girl."

"I can't talk with them about this sort of stuff," I said. "What would they think?"

He shrugged. "Who gives a shit?" He wiped something from the corner of my mouth with a napkin. "In fact, here's my last order for you, baby girl. Be authentically you. Because who you are is way better than most of the people I've met. And on the drive home today, when they ask out about what happened -- after they've talked about the cocks they sucked last night and how they went to bed unsatisfied, you tell them about everything we did last night. Soup to nuts. From the concert to you passing out with my cock in your ass."

"God, that was hot," I moaned thinking about it. I chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bagel with veggie cream cheese, then nodded. "Okay. I'll do it. Daddy."

"Good girl," he said and passed me a glass of orange juice.

...

He packed his bag as I got dressed and prepared to endure the walk of shame in broad daylight in my concert gear from the night before. Taking the subway in that outfit was not something I looked forward to, so when Liam offered to drive me I of course said yes. He kept an arm around me the whole way down the elevator and across the lobby, which was good because my walking was not so good that morning after the pounding I'd taken the night before. To my amazement, though, I felt no shame in how I walked or how I dressed or what it might look like for me, a nineteen year old girl in club gear that barely left anything to the imagination, to be on the arm of a man dressed in slacks and a dress shirt. Whether or not he noticed the looks we got, I didn't know, but he didn't seem overly perturbed by an of it. Even the looks of passersby on the street didn't seem worthy of his attention.

The valet pulled up in a black Porsche Macan. Liam helped me into the car and loaded his own bag, removing something from it before he took to the driver's seat. "Something for you," he said and passed me a hard cover first edition of Chains of Oleander as he pulled out into traffic.

I gasped. My copy was a well worn and well loved paper back with the corners of the covers, front and back, worn so thin they were barely there. I had never even seen a hard cover edition before, let alone the original run. There she was in black and white -- arms crossed, with the only color on the cover art the chains of pink oleander flowers binding her wrists. I opened the front cover and found he'd left an inscription: "My Little Girl -- Grow and change, but always be you. Thank you for a night I won't ever forget. L. Jolliet."

"Thank you," I squealed, so happy I was on the verge of tears. "Oh, God, it's beautiful!"

"It's my last first edition copy," he said. "I think it'll have a good home with you."

I nodded as I turned the book over in my hands, found his half-face author's picture on the back of the book. It made me think. "Can I have a picture with you? Just one as a keepsake. Please?"

"Sure thing," he said as he took a wild turn. He was clearly used to driving in city traffic. "Once we get where we're going."

When we pulled up to the hotel a few minutes later, Michelle was waiting for me at the entrance. I took our picture together -- one with my phone and another with his -- and thanked him again for a wonderful experience. I was sad we had to say goodbye. It was nice to be known and understood so deeply by someone, and that was something I hadn't felt before. He gave me a kiss on the mouth, deep and searching. I melted into him, let my hand travel down his chest as he pulled on my lower lip with his teeth. "I'm going to miss you," he said, smiling as he pulled away.

Michelle knocked on the window. "Just one second," I said, finding a wild notion just too perfect not to act on. "Then," I turned my attention back to him, "let me give you something to keep me on your mind until next time, daddy." I handed him the book for a moment and unfastened my seatbelt, then reached up under my skirt and pulled my g-string down my legs and over my boots. I heard Michelle gasping as I tucked my panties into his shirt pocket, kissed him on the cheek, and took the book back as I enjoyed his disbelieving smile. "Goodbye, Liam," I said in my most coquettish voice possible and opened the door.

"Goodbye, Mariana," he replied, grinning in just the way I wanted to remember him from that moment on. Not some distant, half-envisioned face on a flat, black and white dust jacket. But beaming with with a joy only I could bring him.

Only me -- Amelie -- Daddy's good little girl.